Shall long, with lamentations loud, disturb
The slumbers of her house, and vainly mourn
Her youthful lord, the bravest of the Greeks."
But Dione is no prophet. Diomed returned home (if the later legends are to be believed) to find that his wife Ægiale had been anything but inconsolable during his absence.
Venus' wound is healed, and her tears are soon dried. But Minerva—whose province in the celestial government seems to be not only wisdom but satire—cannot resist a jest upon the unfortunate plight of the Queen of Love. She points her out to Jupiter, and suggests as a probable explanation of the wound, that she has been trying to lead astray some other fair Greek, like Helen,—
"And as her hand the gentle dame caressed,
A golden clasp has scratched her slender arm."
Jupiter smiles, and calling his pouting daughter-goddess to his side, recommends her in future to leave to Mars and Minerva the dangers of the battle-field, and confine her own prowess to campaigns in which she is likely to be more victorious.
Diomed is still rushing in pursuit of Æneas. He knows that Apollo is shielding him; but not even this knowledge checks the impetuous Greek.
"Thrice was his onset made, with murd'rous aim,
And thrice Apollo struck his glittering shield;
But when with godlike force he sought to make
His fourth attempt, the Far-destroyer spake
In terms of awful menace; 'Be advised,
Tydides, and retire; nor as a god
Thyself esteem, since not alike the race
Of gods immortal and of earth-born men.'" (D.)
Diomed accepts the warning, and Æneas is carried
